Bravest are the Most Broken
by EeveeKitty
Summary: Melaina Sam Nyx is an orphan, and she is bullied. When she finds out that she's a witch, she believes that things are looking up for her, but those thoughts are not one-hundred percent true when concerning the Marauders . . . Remus is a Werewolf, and they're generally outcasts and have lots of experience with heartbreak. When he meets a girl suffering just like him, what changes?
1. Chapter 1

"Melaina!"

Ugh. It was _her_.

The she-devil, Hellen Cobbs.

Melaina swore to God, she was sent from Hell itself—the word Hell was in her name, could it be _any_ _more_ _obvious_?—her only purpose to be the bane of her damned existence in that horrible monstrosity considered a world.

She still couldn't understand how these people were able to function properly, knowing full well the terrors leaking from this darkness, slowly infecting and overpowering them—the helpless, most unfortunate beings to ever live.

" _Melaina_!" she screeched again, louder and—oh, dear fucking God—even more shrill, though the girl had no _shred_ of an idea how that was physically possible.

" _Melaina_! _Sam_! _Nyx_! _How_! _Fucking_! _Hard_! _Is_ _it_! _For your shitty ears_! _To hear me_! _Goddamn_ _screaming_! _For_ _you_! _To_ _get_! _Your_ _fat_ _ass_! _Down_ _the_ _stupid_ _stairs_?" Hellen roared, absolutely furious.

Melaina cringed every time her shriek pierced her ears. She literally thought that she was going to go deaf, and, in that short span of time, secretly envied those who already were.

Of course, she was always the one that had to put up with all of the Goddamned bullshit.

The tween hoped it would get better soon, though she wasn't sure if she even deserved that small mercy.

* * *

It was so stupid. He hated his life.

Being a Werewolf was not fun—believe it; he knew from experience.

"Remus!"

"What, Mum?" he called back.

The boy could hear her footsteps on the floor of the first level, heading towards the stairs at an easy pace. Briefly the thought crossed his mind that being affected with lycanthropy had its perks, after all. It was still annoying, though, but at least he had gained enhanced hearing.

 _That's always a plus . . ._

"Remus John Lupin!" his mother, Hope, hollered, breaking him out of his musings as she advanced up to his room.

"Um, yes?"

She soon knocked at the door, and the sandy-blonde waved his hand carelessly. The door swung open, and his mother strode into the room to find her son lying on his bed—a large book opened up with a marker in it in front of him, untouched—peering up at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Honey, you . . ." She trailed off, and the boy had no idea what to say. "The Full Moon's going to be visible in a few days. Three, in fact."

"I know," he told her. It was true; he'd become a Werewolf, and everybody else would get scared. His parents were understanding, though, and he was so thankful for that.

She blushed. "I had suspected you did, sweetie, but I was just checking in on you . . ." she murmured. "Oh, yes, and you've gotten a letter."

He stood up slowly, stretching, and glanced at her curiously. "Really?" he asked, interested. "Where did it come from?"

"I'm not entirely sure, dear," she replied, lips pursed as she thought. "It may have something to do with Hogwarts . . ."

At that, Remus closed his book and swiftly trailed down the stairs. "Hogwarts? This, I'd like to see."

* * *

"Melaina! There's a letter for you!"

She silently slunk into the kitchen, not daring to make a sound, and tentatively accepted the proffered envelope with an almost imperceptible nod. Then, she disappeared into the shadows once more.

"Ungrateful little hag," the woman muttered, her eyes flashing.

* * *

The girl sat upon her bed, staring at the paper in her hands. _What the hell?_

 ** _HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY_**

 ** _Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_** _  
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

 _Dear Miss Nyx,_

 _We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

 _Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 ** _Minerva McGonagall_**  
 ** _Deputy Headmistress_**

"They would never let me go, they'd say I couldn't, they'd start to call me a freak!" she panicked. Droplets of water pricked at her eyes. "I can't go, I won't!"

She threw her paper into the metal bin on the other side of the room, near the door, and turned her head away stubbornly. Then, she glanced back over her shoulder, longing in her two eyes.

"But . . . I really _want_ to go . . ."

She headed down once more in silence, though this time having a destination clear in her mind.

* * *

After having a heated argument with the grouchy old woman, Ms. Hughes, who ran the orphanage, Melaina had a ghost of a smirk on her face. The girl had quietly threatened to use magic if she was ever banned from attending the school, which made Ms. Hughes shriek in fright and nod her head quickly.

She hated the orphanage. Absolutely loathed it. Nobody had once been kind to her, even going out of their way to hurt her, and she hadn't once done anything to deserve their wrath and cold fury.

They told her she was worthless, that her parents never wanted her to begin with—that they only raised her for the first couple years of her life out of pity, and then sent her to the orphanage when they couldn't take it anymore. They said that she was—somehow—the reason for all of their problems, and that she shouldn't die—no, she shouldn't die, because the fact was that she didn't deserve death; she deserved to rot in the depths of Hell for everything she had ever done, every body she had ever killed because those people had once known her.

So that was what she ended up believing, starting at age three-and-a-quarter. She was worthless, because they said she was; she was horrible, because they told her that she was; she was a murderer, because everything they said was correct and that was what they yelled to her face every day.

Now, along with that, they were going to start referring to her as a freak, or perhaps a monster.

And the most sad thing about it was that she would surely believe them if they said she was.


	2. Chapter 2

She sat up abruptly, throwing the white sheets off of her body as she did so, new and fresh tears brimming her eyes at the dream she'd had. The girl then blinked rapidly, successfully ridding the droplets before they had a chance to fall onto the covers.

Another nightmare.

This one was of her mother sneering at her, and her father growling before informing her that they never loved her, that they had wanted nothing more than to make her suffer because she deserved it. They continuously hurt her when she wouldn't speak.

Melaina shuddered, trying not to imagine what that would have felt like had it been in reality.

* * *

The days flew by so quickly for one Remus Lupin, and for that he was utterly grateful. He couldn't mask his elation at entertaining even the mere indulgence of attending one of the most prestigious schools out there, Hogwarts.

When his father had discovered the boy's acceptance letter, Lyall Lupin was uncharacteristically giddy for the month prior to when school started back up again. Hope had had a similar reaction, though she didn't completely understand its significance due to the fact that she didn't use magic. She wished him well, telling him how proud she and Lyall were of him, and then retreated back to the kitchen where she was in the process of cooking chicken.

It had been such a touching moment for the eleven-year-old, experiencing the full extent of his parents' combined love.

"Now, son," Lyall had begun one evening, peering at Remus with an amused glint in his eye. "I honestly do not care about the House you are put into—as long as you make an effort to not get into Slytherin," he'd added, nudging the younger playfully.

Remus had grinned, and pushed his father back with a laugh. "Yeah . . . Alright, Dad. Promise."

* * *

Everything had gotten much worse since she'd received it. People wouldn't ignore her anymore, as the majority had used to do; no, they would hurt her, torment her, threaten her, and all around make her feel terrible about herself, about _existing_.

Hellen had taken to referring to her a lot as her _playmate_ , which was a term she had come to really dread and loathe—exactly like everything else in her _pitiful excuse for a life_ , as one of the boys had called it only that last depressing Thursday.

Never had she felt so alone before.

Sure, the girl had reflected on everything that had happened many a time in the past. She had always felt that dull ache in her chest, originating from where she suspected her heart was located; she used to cry herself to sleep every night without fail as a child.

Now, though, it was as if she had only truly realized that she had nobody at all, not one person that cared enough to keep the girl from suffering any further.

Her parents were gone, and, for all she knew, dead.

She was stuck in a _stupid_ orphanage, and she had no friends. _No friends_. None whatsoever.

The phrase repeated itself in her mind, only resulting in dragging down her self-confidence even more. _My parents are gone. I've got nobody to turn to._

 _I'm worthless._

 _Why haven't they gotten rid of me already?_

It was these thoughts, her hate for herself, that led to her doing _it_. Doing the thing she had once promised herself she wouldn't do— _ever_. The thing she instantly regretted.

Her eyes clouded with defiance and doubt, she turned the corner and crept down the stairs on nimble feet. Her soundless steps and agile movement allowed her to race back to her room unnoticed, where she then threw the door—the chipping, painted yellow door—closed with her lithe and starved body.

A rush of adrenaline coursed through her veins, caused by a sudden wave of anxiety and fear, along with the odd but strong feelings of resignation yet determination.

Swallowing, she drew the object in her left hand nearer to her right; both were shaking furiously as she held it up.

It inched closer, closer, closer still.

As she was about to use it, she stopped—and an emotion flickered in her eyes. Was it surprise? Shock?

Astonishment?

She shook her head slowly, as though having an inner debate and ultimately losing _herself_ even further. Seemingly without another thought, she gathered her remaining courage and traced a thin line over her wrist.

Blood spilled out and a slight pain caused her to wince, but it paled in comparison to the pure _relief_ she felt from that simple action. The cold blade against her skin made her shiver in anticipation, as she found herself wanting to understand the alien feelings _more_.

As she was about to plunge it in again, deeper this time, a timid voice in her head broke her out of the trance-like state she had fallen into.

 _What am I doing to myself?_

That brought her back to reality; the girl took one look at the situation, at the small blood-stained kitchen knife gripped in her hand fiercely, at the gash she herself had caused.

No more did she feel at peace with herself, but a storm brewed inside her in its stead. She gasped, horrified, and nearly dropped it upon her foot—lashing out when it clattered to the ground, and then scrambling away from it with a speed even she herself could not comprehend.

A broken Melaina sat in the corner of her room, curled into a pitiful ball; her body racked with sobs, yet she never once made a sound.

She was repulsed. Completely, utterly disgusted—at herself, to boot. _Congratulations, Melaina_ , she thought, sarcasm and bitterness dripping venomously from the tone her mind had taken. _Now I hate myself, even more than I had before. Good going, me._

The truth was that she had never wanted to cut herself. She didn't want to permanently scar herself, to have a constant reminder that what she had done was stupid and selfish. She wasn't a coward, however, and even though she had done something she didn't truly want, she was not going to harm herself anymore over it.

 _Suicide isn't an option_ , she told herself firmly. _It really shouldn't have been one in the first place. I don't deserve it. I've got it off easy compared to many others._

For the rest of the summer, she sank into a depression, guilt mercilessly gnawing away at her insides.

* * *

Remus grinned, staring at his calendar. The words _Trip to Diagon Alley_ could be read easily, the print neatly scrawled in one of the small boxes separating the dates.

"Today's the day I go pick up my supplies," he mused, seemingly to no one in particular. "I hope I meet someone nice—it'd do good to have some friends . . ."

"Did somebody say my name?" Hope smiled, gently rapping on the door to her son's room before gracefully stepping inside.

Remus looked up. "Mum," he greeted, smiling.

She glanced at him, a smile dancing across her lips. "You all ready, dear?"

"More than ever," he replied quickly, immediately finding a marker in his tidy room before slipping it into the current book he was paging through.

He shut the novel—Hope noticed the title read _A_ _Face_ _Like_ _Glass_ by FrancesHardinge—and gazed at her lovingly.

"Let's go, Rem," she said, grasping his arm and leading him down the stairs.

"Let's," the boy agreed, allowing her to guide him.

* * *

After insisting that Melaina—that ungrateful hag—come and eat practically every day, to no reaction, Ms. Hughes finally gave up.

This time, however, she had a better reason than for the girl to not waste her life in her room because she was anorexic or whatever the hell was wrong with her.

"Melaina! Get your fat ass out of there, because today's the last day I will let you get your Goddamned shit for that freak school!"

Slowly, almost robotically, the brunette exited the safety of her room.

She looked and felt despicable; her once beautiful, glossy, dark-chestnut hair was dirty and positively hideous, not having been brushed in a long while.

She appeared as though she had gotten no sleep at all, which was true.

The girl's eyes were bloodshot, and they conveyed inescapable pain and so much self-loathing. Her right was a soft blue, and her left was a coffee-brown, due to her heterochromia iridis.

She was dressed in torn, navy-blue skinny jeans; a dirty, ruffled, violet tank-top; and a tattered, cropped, black cardigan. Old, heeled, dark-brown boots that reached just below her kneecaps were on her feet, her pant-legs tucked in.

The girl shook her head, her left hand held to her face. "Fine," she groaned, too done with the world to argue about anything anymore. "Just let me fix my hair up."

Ms. Hughes eyed her disapprovingly. "Yes, that would be ideal," she snapped. "Very well; move along now. Can't have you looking like a homeless person now, can we? Despite the fact that you _are_ one, you still live at this orphanage, and we cannot have you out in the public looking like _that_."

By that time, though, Melaina had already gone and returned, as she did not have the energy to listen to the woman's rant.

"Yes, now, are you done? Because I'd like to get my school supplies sooner rather than later."


	3. Chapter 3

Diagon Alley.

Those two words were the ones that were running through Remus's thoughts, and he yelled it for the world to hear as the emerald-green flames of the fireplace engulfed him.

Hope soon followed, and was there just in time to catch her son right before he stumbled.

"I'll never get used to that feeling," he confessed, sighing.

"Oh, honey." His mother flicked his nose, then laughed as he made a face at her.

Two boys and a girl were watching the interaction a few feet away. Both of the boys had black hair, though they were different all the same. One had wavy hair that fell to his shoulders, and stunning stormy-grey eyes that seemed to sparkle with mirth. The other's hair was a lot messier, and his hazel eyes were framed by glasses.

The girl, however, had one soft light-blue eye and one coffee-brown. Her dark-chestnut hair was tied up in a messy ponytail, and she seemed to have a mysterious, alluring yet melancholy, aura to her that both drew people in and sent them away.

Remus was one who had been affected, and made his way over. It became obvious that the two boys had felt it as well, because they strode in front of her with arrogant smirks plastered on their faces.

"Yes?" the girl inquired, with a raised eyebrow. It was a valid greeting, and was said politely, though there was an undertone of something dangerous behind the words.

"Hey there, beautiful," one said, with a dazzling smile. He was patently a flirt.

She edged away from him. "Hi."

"What's your name?" he continued. "I'm Sirius. Sirius Black."

"Melaina," she muttered, quietly. "I'm not pretty, either, so don't even try that with me."

The males seemed shocked.

"B-but," the one with glasses stammered, waving his arms wildly as if trying to prove a point. "But you _are_ pretty!"

"James is right," Sirius told her, though his tone seemed lacking.

Remus approached them cautiously. "Um, hello," he said, giving them a small wave.

"Hey," Sirius answered, turning around.

"'S'up," James responded, looking over his shoulder.

Melaina stayed silent.

Remus ignored the two boys, going over to the female. "I'm Remus Lupin," he introduced, extending a hand. "And you are?"

". . . My name's Melaina. I thought you knew that?" She glanced up at him curiously, ignoring the proffered limb.

He shook his head with a chuckle, drawing his arm back.

"Well, I . . . I need to go." The girl dashed off, leaving the three boys.

"That was weird," James Potter finally opined, after a prolonged moment of silence.

"Yeah, it was," Sirius agreed.

Remus merely nodded his head.

* * *

"Y'know," Sirius began, thoughtfully, introducing yet another topic for them to talk about after about four minutes of settling into a comfortable silence.

James looked at him, interest peaked. "Yeah? What is it, Siri?"

The boy stiffened, then glared. "Don't call me that, James!"

Remus laughed.

" _Anyway_ ," Sirius continued, looking peeved. "What do you all think about that girl? What was her name again—Melody? Melanie?"

"Melaina," Remus reminded.

Sirius nodded. "Right. Melanie."

James shook his head, with a sigh. "I don't like her much, mate. She was definitely strange."

Just then, they caught sight of a chestnut-haired girl with one soft blue eye and one coffee-brown eye. She was walking out of a shop that sold Muggle items, a skateboard in her hand and a guitar resting against her back. A small leather satchel fell to her right hip, the strap crossed over her left shoulder.

Remus instantly felt that pull again, wasting no time in ditching his new friends and going to sit with the odd brunette.

She had begun to play the guitar, though, and started singing before he reached her. Not wanting to interrupt or possibly startle her, he awkwardly stood and listened.

 _I hurt myself today,_  
 _To see if I still feel;_  
 _I focus on the pain,_  
 _The only thing that's real;_  
 _The needle tears a hole,_  
 _The old familiar sting;  
_ _Try to kill it all away,  
_ _But I remember everything._

 _What have I become,  
My sweetest friend;_  
 _Everyone I know goes away in the end;_  
 _And you could have it all,_  
 _My empire of dirt;_  
 _I will let you down,_  
 _I will make you hurt._

Remus watched, transfixed, as she continued to pour everything into the—frankly, depressing—song.

When she finished, she stared at her arms—not even bothering to notice the sandy-blonde studying her a few feet away.

Suddenly, her eyes lit up. She rummaged through her bag, finally pulling out a loose sheaf of paper and a pen.

 _Life, it seems, will fade away,  
Drifting further every day;  
Getting lost within myself,  
Nothing matters, no one else._

She thought for a moment more, after quickly writing those four lines down in neat cursive. The top of the pen positioned against her cheek made for a surprisingly cute look.

 _I have lost the will to live,_  
 _Simply nothing more to give._  
 _There is nothing more for me;  
Need the end to set me free._

Reading those words sent unexpected tears crawling down her face, as it was especially true for her; she wrote lyrics based off of her own experiences.

She folded the paper and gingerly placed it back into her surrogate purse. The girl then began to hum a tune, strumming her guitar. The pen sat, neglected at the moment, to her side.

"I need to remember that," she murmured softly, as she finished.

She then began to sing the same tune, but added the words to it. "Life, it seems, will fade away, drifting further every day . . ."

At a loud shout, she froze and glanced up—only to see the three boys from earlier, two of them jogging closer. She waited until they had caught up to the sandy-blonde to speak.

"Hello, Remus. Sirius, James."

"Hi," they chorused.

She glanced around nervously. "D-did, um . . . did you, by any chance, hear me?"

The two ravens glanced at each other, bemused, then shook their heads. Remus shrugged, managing—albeit just barely—to keep the sad smile from appearing after hearing some of the songs she played.

She gave them a shaky smile. "Don't worry about it, it's nothing."

"Alright . . ." Though he sounded dubious, James waved it off.

Remus cast a furtive look to Sirius, which could easily be translated to _do something, you twit_.

The mutineer Black cleared his throat.

"This is awkward," he declared.

Lupin not-so-subtly smacked his forehead.

James snickered.

An uncomfortable silence passed over them.

"Well," Melaina said, breaking the tension, "you guys are going to Hogwarts, right?"

This time, it was the young Potter facepalming, at her lack of common sense. " _No_ ," he replied, sarcasm evident in his tone. "We're at Diagon Alley—a place that can only be granted entrance if you are a wizard or witch, mind you—buying robes and wands and spell books. Of _course_ we _aren't_ going to Hogwarts!"

The girl abruptly stood. "I'll . . . just go." _They don't like me, anyway . . . I really shouldn't have spoken up like that. I'm stupid, and ugly, and nobody wants someone like me . . ._

As she stalked away, Remus glanced down. "Huh," he muttered, walking forward and bending down. "She left her pen."

Both James and Sirius blinked. "A what?" they asked, simultaneously.

The sandy-blonde rolled his green eyes. "A _pen_ ," he informed them, emphasizing the word. "It's a Muggle writing utensil, sort of like a quill."

The duo's eyes flashed brightly. "Muggles make cool stuff." That statement was, once again, in unison.

"They do, don't they?" Remus agreed, turning to stare at the object.

Sirius nudged James. "Hey, what else was she holding? That board thing?"

The bespectacled boy shrugged. "I dunno. Remus?"

He shook his head. "Nope, sorry. What can I say? I'm not completely Muggle-born."

"That's too bad." Sirius cast his gaze back to where the brunette had disappeared from their sight a few minutes ago, looking almost regretfully as his eyes lingered. "I'd have liked to know what that was."

"Maybe we can ask her next time we see her?" the Werewolf suggested, almost hopefully.

James made a face. "She's . . . just . . . I don't know, mate, but I don't like her."

"Neither do I," Sirius admitted. "That girl is too weird."

"And you're not?" he retorted.

"Hey!" Sirius laughed, as James skidded away. "Get back here!"

"Never!"

* * *

Melaina sighed, peering into the muddled and altogether haphazard store through the transparent—most likely glass—rectangular double doors. Just as she was about to enter, a boy with pale-blonde hair swung around one of the many shelves right of the door. As he was admiring his wand, he didn't notice her, and they collided.

The girl was thrown off of her feet, having lost her balance. The boy quickly stood up, brushing himself off, and offered a hand to help her up. "Sorry about that," he said, with an apologetic smile.

She shook her head, standing up herself, and gave him a look. _Why is he . . . ?_ ". . . Thank you . . . ?"

"You're welcome."

The brunette stayed quiet, lost in her thoughts. _Why's he being so nice? Why did he apologize? He shouldn't have . . . I don't deserve it. I'm clumsy, and annoying, and dumb . . ._

She was broken out of her mind when he awkwardly cleared his throat. "By the way, I'm Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy."

"Oh." _Should I tell him my name?_ "Mine's Melaina."

He smiled.

She turned around, not wanting to see him. _Surely he's not happy with me? Nobody ever is._ "Well, see you, I guess."

"You're going to Hogwarts, right?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Then I guess we'll cross paths again sooner than you think," he told her, a sly smile tugging at his lips.

She entered _Ollivander's Wand Shop_ , though a frown was etched on her face.

* * *

A/N: Neither of the songs in the chapter are my own property, and nor will any songs used in the future be either—unless I, a young teenager, become a famous lyricist and singer in the next few days, which I doubt will happen, even in my wildest dreams.

Next chapter will most likely be when they go for Hogwarts, but I'm not completely certain yet. We'll see when I get to writing it.


	4. Chapter 4

It was definitely hard for Melaina when she unwillingly returned to the orphanage; after opposing to her several times, Ms. Hughes finally managed to drag her back. Hellen was a complete ass, and everyone else was simply horrible.

She couldn't wait until the next day—she would finally be going to Hogwarts, though she didn't think it would be much better.

Something seemed off with even the boys she met at Diagon Alley— _what were their names? That one guy with the glasses, Black, Lupin, and . . . Malfoy. T_ _hat was it. They've probably forgotten about me._ She sighed. _Still_ , she thought, _I guess anywhere's better than here . . ._

The brunette walked over to the guitar in one of the corners of her room, where it was resting against the wall. She began to strum it, humming along before starting to quietly sing some music she had written one day. Needless to say, she was a talented lyricist.

 _All around me are familiar faces,  
Worn out places, worn out faces;  
Bright and early for their daily races,  
Going nowhere, going nowhere;  
Their tears are filling up their glasses,  
No expression, no expression;  
Hide my head, I wanna drown my sorrow,  
No tomorrow, no tomorrow._

 _And I find it kind of funny,  
I find it kind of sad,  
The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had;  
I find it hard to tell you,  
I find it hard to take,  
When people run in circles,  
It's a very, very mad world,  
Mad world._

* * *

James Potter wanted to do this, and he wanted to do this right.

"Sirius? You there? Yeah, mate, it's me, James. Listen, I know this is sudden and all, but I was wondering if you wanted to take a day off and spend it with me." There was a pause. "What? No! How dare you accuse me of such an act!" Another, longer, moment of silence, as he listened to the Black. "Alright, fine, you got me." He sighed dramatically, throwing his hands up into the air. "Yep. Now, move it!" He laid the broken glass fragment down on the small circular table beside him.

Next was Remus.

"Mum! You know that Muggle phone or whatever it is—you know how you bought one the other day? Where'd you put it? Mum? Mum!"

* * *

In the Lupin household, one wall-phone rang.

"I've got it, dear," Lyall said, as the tone sounded for the fourth time.

He picked it up. "Hello?"

" _REMUS_ , _IS THAT YOU_?! I'M USING A PHONE! A MUGGLE PHONE! IT'S SO COOL, AND REALLY AMAZING, AND I'M SO GLAD MUM GOT IT FOR US, AND—"

"That's nice and all, but I'm not Remus—and you certainly do not need to shout." To say the man was amused was an understatement, and saying he had a migraine was one as well.

"AND—wait, what?"

Lyall grinned, though it couldn't be seen over the phone. "Sound passes through just as easily, if not more so, on things like these. It's not exactly necessary to scream, because we can hear each other as though we were having a conversation not two decimeters away."

"Oh," James breathed. "That's AWESOME!"

Remus's father held his head. "Please don't yell anymore . . ."

"Sorry."

He shook his head in an attempt to clear it. "I guess you want Remus?"

"Yep. Thanks."

"Alright." He took the device from his ear and dropped his hand. "Hope?" he called. "Could you get our son? He's got someone waiting on the phone!"

A few minutes later, the sandy-blonde appeared in the doorway. "Yeah, Dad? Someone's on the phone?"

His father nodded, and handed it to him before turning to the adjacent room. "I'm gonna lie down for a bit, got a headache," he muttered.

Remus stifled a laugh, then held the phone up. "Hello? Remus Lupin speaking."

"REMUS!" James clamored, loudly.

The boy drew his hand back, wincing. " _James_? God, don't do that!"

"Sorry." In fact, he did not sound apologetic at all.

It wasn't very surprising to Remus.

"Just . . . what do you want?"

"Oh, right! I wanted to invite you over!"

Remus paused, staring blankly at the wall as though it held the answers to the secrets of the universe. ". . . Have you forgotten," he finally said, his tone one that somebody would use when talking to an imbecile, "that I don't even know where you live?"

At the Potter Manor, James looked like he had only just realized that fact. "Oh, yeah . . . Right. I knew that."

Remus shook his head. "For some reason, I had actually believed you would have at least known _that_. Guess you can't expect much from bloody idiots."

"Use the Floo Network!" the raven-haired, glasses-wearing tweenager cried.

Remus rolled his eyes. "Oh, yeah, like that'd go on well with the Min—" He stopped abruptly, contemplating the idea. "Did you . . . Did you really just say something that actually made sense?"

"Stop overreacting and just DO IT!"

Remus cringed at his friend's loud voice, then sighed. He waved his free hand around in the air flippantly. "Fine, fine."

* * *

Minutes later found the young Lupin at James's parents' mansion, where the Potters were host to a celebratory party.

"God, James, did you really set this up yourself? I'm honestly impressed," he complimented.

Sirius smirked. "Yeah, this is pretty good. You've outdone yourself, mate."

Heat instantly rose to his cheeks, and he grinned widely. "Thanks, guys, but you haven't seen anything yet."

"I guess maybe you two aren't complete gits after all," Remus commented idly, receiving two playful glares in return.

"I'm not sure whether to be comforted or offended," Sirius joked.

James rolled his eyes. "Shouldn't it be obvious? That was so very insulting; we're both gits, through and through!"

The day passed by all too soon for the three of them; soon it was five-thirty, and Remus was expected back at his house. Sirius seemed to only barely restrain from thrashing about and shouting profanities when the time came for him to leave. James patted his back sympathetically, lessening his bitter mood, but he was still pretty irked at the thought of going back to his family.

* * *

Melaina breathed a sigh of relief as the long day finally ended, and night graced everybody with its presence and the comforting promise of a nice rest.

She brushed her thick, long, dark-chestnut hair before practically collapsing onto her tattered mattress and closing her eyes.

The faster she got to sleep meant that it wouldn't seem as long a wait as eleven hours was to escape the Hell that was the orphanage.

* * *

" _SIRIUS ORION BLACK the Third_!" Walburga Black thundered from the bottom of the stairway.

Her son rolled off of his bed with a grunt, and hit the wooden floorboards with an even louder one. "Yes, Mother _dearest_?" he called back, using the _affectionate_ title he had given her. As he rose from the ground, Sirius glared at the forming bruise on his leg.

"Get out of bed _this instant_ and be ready! Why can't you be more like Regulus? He's already dressed, and he isn't even the one going to Hogwarts!"

"It's always _Regulus this, Regulus that_ with you, isn't it, woman?" the boy grumbled, as he changed into the standard black school robes.

He trudged down to the first floor, suitcase behind him, and sat down heavily into a chair. Without warning, he purloined his younger brother's plate and began to shovel the food into his mouth.

Regulus stared, wide-eyed, at Sirius, before his shocked expression morphed into a scowl. "Mum! Sirius stole my food!"

"You're such a snitch," he groaned.

"A what?"

Sirius smirked, chuckling conceitedly. "It's a Muggle expression."

His younger brother glowered at him.

* * *

"Remus, honey, get up," Hope called softly, knocking on the door to her son's room.

The sandy-blonde looked up from the book he had currently taken an interest in. "Mum, I'm awake already. I got up a few minutes ago."

She chuckled quietly to herself. "I guess I really should have seen that coming," she admitted.

Remus stood from the neatly made bed. "I suppose I'd be correct if I said you'd already made breakfast?"

Hope nodded, a bright smile plastered on her hale face. "Shall we?" she asked, offering her arm.

"We shall," he agreed with a laugh, placing his hand in hers.

Together, they made their way down to enjoy a warm breakfast.

* * *

James Potter awoke to a house-elf jumping on his back.

"Gah!" he cried, flinging himself off of his hazard of a bed and onto the untidy carpet in the room. "Carlisia, what the bloody hell was that for?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, but Master and Mistress Potter told me to wake you up," she hastily explained.

The boy groaned. "That's nice, I feel so loved to know that they can't even take the time to come up here themselves . . ."

Carlisia seemed unreasonably nervous as he was complaining.

"Oh, sorry, you don't have to listen to me ramble on about nothing; you can go if you want. I don't especially care," James said, as he recovered and dragged himself to the midnight-blue dresser against the wall farthest from the door. "Actually, could you please? It'd be . . . really weird to get changed right now . . ."

She nodded, then snapped her fingers, and Apparated.

James soon thundered down the stairs, in simple Muggle clothes as to not arouse suspicion when at the station, and found his parents already seated. "Mum, Dad!" he whined, sounding like a child. "Why didn't you come wake me up?"

They chuckled.

* * *

Throwing the thin white sheets off of her, Melaina awoke at the first light of dawn; as it was, five-o'clock sharp. She grabbed her small bag, throwing several outfits in after donning a red T-shirt and some pale, ripped jeans. She then tossed a journal containing her thoughts, drawings, and songs into her pack as well. The satchel she had bought at Diagon Alley was placed carelessly on top of that, the once-dead iPod she'd found on the street inside of it.

All of her textbooks—which she'd read multiple times, as she had nothing else to do, and were now at a size and weight that she could easily carry—were at the very bottom of the pile.

Melaina stuffed some earbuds—ones that she'd been fortunate enough to buy, after saving up the little money she received at the orphanage—into her pocket, and sat down with her guitar in hand.

 _Playground school bell rings again,  
Rain clouds come to play again;  
Has no one told you she's not breathing?  
Hello, I am your mind,  
Giving you someone to talk to;  
Hello._

 _If I smile, and don't believe,  
Soon, I know I'll wake from this dream;  
Don't try to fix me—I'm not broken;  
Hello, I am the lie living for you,  
So you can hide;  
Don't cry._

 _Suddenly, I know I'm not sleeping;  
Hello, I'm still here;  
All that's left of yesterday._

After everybody else awoke, she put her instrument inside its case—they'd been sold together at the shop—and grabbed her skateboard from outside. Muttering a quick _Diminuendo_ , she lazily flicked her wand; her target, being both the guitar and the case, shrunk down, and she fitted them into her knapsack, too.

"I doubt I'm going to miss this place," she said to herself, as she began to head down to the station. "Though I might. I just hope Hogwarts isn't going to be worse."

* * *

A girl with chestnut hair and two different colored eyes set her foot down in the middle of the area. She maneuvered herself, then placed one of her feet on the edge of her board. It flipped upwards, and she caught it skillfully in her right hand.

Sliding it under her arm, she shoved a hand in her pocket and pulled out a slightly crumpled ticket.

LONDON TO HOGWARTS  
for ONE WAY travel  
Platform 9¾

Those were the words inscribed on it, and it really confused her. _What the bloody hell is Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters? Oh, dear God, I sound like a British person now . . . It's actually really hard to believe I'm an American . . ._

She paused for a moment, wandering through the sea of Muggles, searching for a staff member that was familiar with the surroundings.

Melaina finally found a hale, energetic, young woman with honey-blonde hair and natural light-brown highlights. She had gorgeous amber eyes that glimmered brightly as sunlight reflected off of them. "Yes?" she intoned in a cheerful voice, a friendly smile enhancing her features even more.

"Um, I was wondering if you knew anything about a Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters? I have a ticket, but it didn't seem like it existed . . ."

The female frowned slightly, her eyebrow raising. "Hmm . . . I don't recall ever hearing mention of this platform, miss, though there have been an odd number of people asking lately . . . May I see your ticket?"

"Of course," she agreed, holding her palm out.

She studied the pass curiously; then, satisfied with her results, handed it back. "I've never seen one like that before, in all of my experience handling trains," she confessed. "I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help."

The brunette nodded, disappointed, and decided to hang around for a while longer. She leaned against one of the brick pillars—which just so happened to be the one in between Platforms Nine and Ten—and proceeded to fall through, landing unceremoniously on the ground—or she would have, had she not have had fast reflexes and recovered, stumbling before planting herself firmly on two feet.

As the girl looked up, she caught a glimpse of the Hogwarts Express in all of its glory.

As her focus became more generalized, she started to take notice of all the emotional families around her; it made her uneasy, as she didn't want to witness the embraces and tears of others. So she did what any unnerved and insecure child would do to escape the scene if stuck in her situation—board the train.

It was considerably more quiet and, overall, peaceful, and she decided to take her journal out to draw. Rummaging through her bag, Melaina soon pulled out a regular-sized notebook with a worn cover and lock. She opened it up, flipping to a clean page, and was just about to start sketching the scenery, when a very _loud_ racket came from the adjacent compartment.

Sighing, the girl managed to place it back inside her bag when the door burst open with a clatter.

None other than James and Sirius themselves came marching through, staring down at her and sneering. "Hey, look! I remember you! You're that weird freak girl we pretended to like, aren't you?"

She stared at them, shock and hurt flashing in her eyes, before she regained her senses and glared at the floor.

James grinned, though he seemed dangerous—like a predator stalking their prey. "Can't even find the decency to look at us when we talk to you?"

Sirius cast a sideward glance at his friend. "Do you have something in mind, mate? Teach her a lesson, maybe?"

The boy nodded emphatically, as though he was being asked if he wanted a pile of sweets and not about the plan he had created at Melaina's expense.

It was brutal.

She whimpered, her arms wrapped around her knees tightly as she forced her head between them, curling up into a ball on the ground.

The two boys clutched their stomachs, doubling over in laughter; they were hysterical. How anyone found somebody else's pain a source of amusement completely mystified Melaina.

A redhead curiously slid the compartment door open, taking in the scene with wide, horror-filled, forest-green eyes. They narrowed when she caught sight of the two raven-haired tweenagers not even attempting to hide how much fun they were having. Her gaze then averted to the brunette that was shuddering, sobbing silently.

 _How could they do that to her?_ the girl thought, well beyond furious. _Those bloody gits!_

"Lily?" A soft knock was heard, and then the door opened once more to reveal Severus Snape.

"Severus!" she exclaimed, tearing her eyes away from the other female. "Sev, help me, please—this girl, she needs treatment, like, _right now_!"

His own black eyes widened substantially, and he stepped past his best friend to see dark-chestnut hair shadowing a small, frail, thin body.

He whipped out his wand, frantically muttering healing spells—long after she'd fallen comatose—until the damage caused by James and Sirius seemed physically nonexistent.

By that time, the two boys were glaring. "Why the hell are you helping _her_?" Sirius spat, venom laced in every word.

"Because it's the right thing to do!" the redhead practically snarled, resisting the urge to break his nose. But, oh, was it _so tempting_ . . .

Snape grabbed her arm, knowing all too well what was going on in her mind, and gently held it. "Lily," he murmured, "don't. It's not going to help matters here; believe me, I want to just as much as you do, but I'm not."

Lily struggled against him, but gave up rather quickly, as she realized that he was right.

Kicking the two _toe-rags_ , as she'd dubbed them, out of the compartment, the two waited in silence for the brunette to regain consciousness.

* * *

Remus had found a completely empty compartment, and had seized his chance for some tranquility to read his intriguing book. A boy—Peter Pettigrew, as he'd introduced himself as—had shyly but not unkindly asked if he could sit with him. Remus had happily obliged, and had instantly found himself enjoying Peter's company—he was naturally curious, much like himself, but possessed enough self-control to know when to speak, and when to be quiet.

It had definitely been reassuring to the young Werewolf.

However, the moment had been ruined as soon as the door burst open, and Remus now found himself mentally cursing James and Sirius as he listened to their rendition of what had happened not minutes ago.

"So, yeah, and then these two others came in and ruined our fun!" Sirius, ever the kvetch, groused, throwing his hands into the air in what seemed to be insensate frustration.

Remus nearly started to yell a string of profanities, but restrained himself; instead, he chose to glare at them harshly, his dark appearance causing them to involuntarily flinch. "You are both Goddamned _bloody idiots_!"

"What the hell did we do?" James growled back, his eyes narrowing.

Remus chose not to reply. He stood from his seat and stalked out of the compartment, slamming the door behind him.

"I thought you said he'd understand?" James accused, eyes flashing menacingly at Sirius.

The boy looked frightened. "I thought he _would_! I didn't even know we did anything _wrong_!"

* * *

The girl and the boy both jumped, hearing a soft groan. They shuffled to their feet, peering around the seat to find the girl rousing. She winced, and then backed away as Lily and Severus neared her.

"It's okay, we aren't going to hurt you," the redhead soothed, speaking in a hushed whisper.

The brunette pushed herself farther into her seat. _They always say that; it's not true._

Quite suddenly, a gentle knock sounded at the compartment door. Melaina trembled.

Severus warily went to open the door, while Lily did her best to comfort the other eleven-year-old female.

"Is Melaina in here?" Remus inquired, trying to look past the other boy.

Snape hesitated. "There is a girl, yes," he said, slowly, cautiously. "She's got brown hair. Do you know her?"

Lupin nodded. "Yeah, I do. James and Sirius are bloody pricks, trust me on that. We all met in Diagon Alley . . . Speaking of which . . ." He dug around in his pocket, finally pulling out her pen. "This is, in fact, hers. Can I speak to her?"

Severus frowned. "Sorry, she's not exactly talkative right now. Maybe later, if she ever wants to associate with you again."

That stung. A lot.

Remus growled, his eyes flashing gold briefly. "Shut it, you git! Let me talk to her!"

Snape forcefully shut the door in his face.

* * *

"So, you're Melaina?" Lily asked, her eyes glimmering. "That's such a unique name! It's so pretty, too!"

 _What? She's not . . . ? But . . . what?_ Melaina shook her head. "My name . . . ? It means black." She hesitated, but took a breath and continued in a meek voice. "My surname, Nyx . . . it means night. My middle name means dark."

"Wait a minute, you're basically saying that you're a dark person?"

She shrugged, the motion accompanied by a slight wince. _Don't hit me, don't hit me, don't hit me . . ._

"Why the hell were you named after the dark? Did your family have some sort of obsession about it?"

 _Oh, great._ Melaina didn't speak, not wanting to discuss her relationships—because she had none.

Eventually, Lily realized that she wouldn't be getting anything else out of the girl. As she turned to start up a conversation with Severus, she could swear that Melaina almost smiled.

Almost.

 _Maybe Lily and Severus aren't so bad, after all._

* * *

A/N: Wow! That was much longer than I had intended for this. Melaina is definitely a hard character to write about; she feels at peace when she's alone, yet she still doesn't completely trust herself after the cut. She's insecure about opening up to others, especially now that James and Sirius hurt her after they'd seemed so nice. She doesn't know how to react to strangers, and because she's only ever really had traumatic experiences with people she gets unreasonably nervous and awkward, and surprised when she realizes that not everybody is out to get her like she thinks.

If you think that she's beginning to trust them, you're right. _However_ , due to the fact that her childhood is worth less than crap because of the hurt she's suffered, she's very wary and ultimately confused and lost about the world. She is definitely not going to trust people so freely, so easily, and it's only worse since she has a lot of trust issues, all concerning the few people that she had trusted before.

Is this making any sense to you at all? No? Well, then . . . I'm sorry; to sum it all up, she doesn't want to trust anyone, and she's wary being around others. But she also doesn't trust herself enough to be alone. As you all can see, this girl has major issues concerning her life. She's going to be learning how to slowly heal from her traumatizing childhood, but it's not exactly going to suddenly get better for her. She's scarred for life, and that will never change.

Anyway, thanks for reading!

* * *

~June 11, 2016

Edit: I've just finished typing up the next chapter, and I'm currently working on the sixth. _Fun_.

Please review; I haven't asked this of you, but you all should really know by now. I appreciate any input at all, and it just fills me with joy at knowing people actually read this and aren't just oblivious to the existence of my story. Any suggestions are welcome, as well as constructive criticism. Flames will be read but otherwise completely ignored. I advise you to just stop reading; it is not a requirement to post a long hate rant about how terrible writers' works are. In fact, I believe it to be rather a waste of time, for both the author and the commenter, and I for one will not tolerate having my story put down.

Thanks for understanding,  
Kit.


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